


What's In the Past Should Stay Dead

by WAWritings



Series: A Long and Bitter Road [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: A little broken and a little tired, Agent Washington is petty, Caboose has a lot of ideas, M/M, Old wounds reopened, Slow Burn, Tucker has a lot of anger and a dead friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WAWritings/pseuds/WAWritings
Summary: Focuses on the time between season 8 and 9 and how Tucker and Wash became friends and a little bit more.It took a moment and then they were both laughing. It was quiet like a private joke. In a way it was a joke. A cosmic joke that universe had played on the course of their lives. Their shitty lives that had been intertwined for years before they met. All because of one man’s obsession. All of the terrible things that had happened to them were outline in a hilarious set of circumstances.





	1. The Parts of Me That Died With You

“Danger will follow me  
Everywhere I go  
Angels will call on me  
And take me to my home  
Well this tired mind just wants to be led home

And I'll fall on my knees  
Tell me how's the way to go  
Tell me how's the way to see  
Show me all that I could be”

\- “Everywhere I go”, Lissie

            The thing about being damaged is that no one tells you how shitty it really is. Agent Washington, David, had quite frankly been through the ringer. No matter how many times he went to sleep, no matter how many times he reminded himself he was okay, Washington was decidedly not okay. Neither time nor distance had made an impact on his mood or mental state. It was like living through hell, only now that hell had a bunch of idiots in it. Caboose was not terrible to be around despite his inability to fully grasp what was going on. That and the fact that he was tactile made for interesting days on Blue base. Sarge was well…well he came at face value. Simmons would be a good soldier if he wasn’t spineless. Grif, although lazy, had the ability to at least question authority. All of them were a mediocre set of soldiers. Tucker was the slight exception to the rule.

            After losing Epsilon, no Church, on the mountaintop the Blue team had seemingly adopted him. That however did not mean that he was accepted immediately. Caboose for his lack of understanding was amazingly compassionate and for some reason had a better grip on Wash’s mental state than most. They way Caboose spoke to Wash was like a mother trying to soothe heartbreak. Tucker seemingly wanted absolutely no interaction whatsoever to occur between the two of them. Which was understandable given everything that had happened. Wash had hunted them. He had hunted them ruthlessly. To Tucker he was the man who had taken away Church not once but twice. It was easy to see why the man wanted nothing to do with him. Wash could handle it. It wasn’t as if the situation would ever have been normal even without the dead friend thing. So to pass the time Wash lead the Blue team in missions against the Red team to distract them. So far they had thirty-two successful victories out of thirty-two missions. So as far as distractions go things were going pretty good.

            The thing is that Washington has three consistent traits since Epsilon left his head. Crippling anxiety that plagued him throughout the day and caused some pretty intense paranoia, depression that pretty much debilitated him at the worst possible times, and insomnia. If you asked Wash, he could honestly tell you that the insomnia was the worst bit. When night time hit and his teammates were tucked away into bed, he would be wide awake. The night had a funny side effect of bringing up old memories. Sometimes they were pleasant, little blasts from the past. Those could be worse than the bad ones. There were times that remembering Connie laughing at a stupid joke York told or Carolina poorly attempting to maintain her wild hair could become a bit much. So Wash’s inability to sleep meant that he either sat in the kitchen thinking or went outside to patrol and throw knives at trees. Neither did much in way of making him tired but it calmed his mind. That was all Wash could ever ask for. Except tonight they seemed inescapable.

___________________________________________________

_“You stupid-” Carolina called from her perch atop one of the locker room toilets. Long copper hair stuck out every which way from what appeared to be a braid. Or what would have been a braid if she could effectively separate the strands properly. Wash sighed and approached on principle. It was painful to watch. There was something rather endearing about a woman who could kill a man with her bare hands in a matter of seconds but couldn’t do her own hair._

_“Do you need some help?” Wash questioned cautiously. It was better to tread lightly with Carolina. She had a contact fuse and an absolutely awful blow back. Vibrant eyes shot up to his face and gave him a once over._

_“Can you even do hair?” Carolina growled, ripping out the hair tie violently. Little stray strands fell to the ground with the violent reaction. Laughing, he extended his hand and took the tie from her hands._

_“Spin around,” He instructed and she turned to face the wall, “I have sisters and I am the second oldest. One of my many brotherly duties was doing their hair before school.” With gentle fingers he ran his hands through the loose waves and tested the length. It was soft and well taken care of. It was also quite clear it hadn’t been professionally cut in years. The ends of the hair were a multitude of different lengths. Carolina had been cutting her own hair._

_“I wasn’t aware you had siblings,” Carolina offered in her off centered way whenever family got brought up. It was like watching a small child get thrown into an uncomfortable situation. For such a good leader, Carolina struggled with social interaction and conversation. According to York she had always been a little awkward. Emotions tripped her up more than was conventionally normal. That and the fact that her moods seemed to rise and fall drastically made Wash believe that there was more than just awkwardness to blame. To be honest that suited Wash just fine, he was the same._

_“We all come from somewhere. I just happen to come from a place where braiding hair was a necessary skill set in order to survive.” Carolina leaned into his touch like it was the best thing she had felt in years. Maybe it was. It wasn’t as if their little group was touchy feely._

_“I suppose so,” She stated thoughtfully. The two of them sat quietly. Wash pulled her hair back into a tight French braid and then twisted it into a tight professional bun. Carolina handed him a set of bobby pins when prompted. After it was secured into place, she stood and cracked her neck._

_With soft foot falls she padded over to the mirror and surveyed his handy work. In that moment she looked rather sad, lip pursing. There was something unexplainable in her verdant eyes._

_“I look like my mother,” She commented and tilted her head to the side. Wash was surprised and hung back to allow her a moment to think. “Thank you Wash,” She said softly and shot him a small and nervous smile. Wash ducked his head and chuckled._

_“Well if you ever need help wrangling your hair into something other than a ponytail, you know where to find me.” Carolina laughed and put her hand on his shoulder as she passed by. It was cautious, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to touch him. Long elegant fingers clutched gently at the cotton of his tee-shirt._

_“You’re going to fit in fine rookie,” She said it so affectionately that he almost thought he was dreaming, “Don’t let York or North push you around so much during training. You’re a talented fighter and a smart man. They just like poking fun at you because they know they can get a rise out of you,” Without another word she slipped out of the locker room and into the hall. And for a moment, just one, Wash let himself breathe out a sigh of relief._

_____________________________________________________

            Lobbing another throwing knife into the base of a tree, Wash blinked. Exhaustion was just starting to hit with its full force. It wasn’t quite night time and the sun wasn’t quite rising. The world around him was starting to wake up all around their base. Birds fluttered in tree tops and chortled softly. Off in the distance a doe and her fawn padded through the trees, their soft footsteps crinkled against dead leaves. Despite being dead on his feet, Wash could appreciate the sounds of life all around him. It was better than the sound of a concrete prison cell and clanging metal doors. Behind him he could hear the soft padding of feet followed closely by the world’s most conspicuous footsteps.

            “Agent Washington!” Caboose called out and when he turned to look at the giant man Wash flinched at the smile on his face. It was truly amazing how Caboose managed to keep his child-like joy despite everything. Tucker on the other hand was glowering up at his giant teammate with an expression that could possibly freeze hell over. There were only a few things that got Tucker fired up: Early mornings, banter, scratchy under suits, women, and Junior. The enthusiasm at which Tucker spoke about those things grew as Wash went down the list.

            “We found something in the basement!” Caboose smiled even brighter, teeth showing. Tucker sighed loudly and ran a hand through the tight curls atop his head.

            “No you found something,” He grumbled at his teammate, “I was sleeping.” Wash cocked a brow in response. Both of them stood in the PJ’s which was slightly alarming considering the Reds tended to use ammunition with little discrimination as to where it went or who it hit.

            “And what could you have possibly found that could get you this excited?” Wash asked somewhat reluctantly. With Caboose it could really be anything.

            “Oh you are going to love it!” Caboose answered and clapped his hands together. The gap between his two front teeth showing due to his large grin. Tucker groaned and rolled his eyes.

            “Knives, he found fucking knives.” Tucker grit out through his teeth, “You need to come get them before he hurts himself or ends up killing you.” Wash blinked in surprise. The sad part is that Tucker wasn’t wrong, it would be better to keep any weapons away from Caboose. After all he had the Shelia and Church lesson drilled into his head since the first time the Blue team had traveled together.

            Of all the things Wash had expected a storage room filled with various styles of knives was not it. One or two sets maybe but not shelves and shelves of them. How he had missed this on the initial sweep of the building was beyond him. It was like Christmas come early. Gingerly he picked up one of the cases and thumbed over the throwing knives inside. They were in pristine condition.

            “Caboose go upstairs and get some sleep,” Tucker ordered and the giant man nodded in compliance. The only person on base who regularly got eight hours of sleep was seemingly Tucker. Heavy footfalls carried up the stairs and that left the room deathly silent.

            “So…you like knives,” Tucker trailed off. Wash looked up and set down the case with a certain level of revere. Reaching up, he unlatched his helmet and it released with a hiss. The air in the room was cool and smelled like dust. There was the underlying tone of metal and gun powder.

            “I like all sorts of weapons,” Wash replied, “Knives are just a personal favorite.” Tucker watched him shift down the rows of shelves taking inventory with mild curiosity. There was a quirk in his brow and it was coupled with an unsure expression.

            “Do you have experience with different types of blades?” Tucker mutter almost under his breath. From where he was crouched down Wash could see the trepidation on Tucker’s face.

            “Like what?” It was obvious where the conversation was headed. For his lack of training Tucker managed to be quite proficient with his sword.

            “Like my sword,” Tucker grumbled slightly louder, “It has recently come to my attention that swish, swish, stab is not an effective method of fighting. So I was thinking that maybe, if you’re up for it, you could teach me some tricks of the trade.” Wash was surprised to say the least. It was the first time Tucker had engaged with him outside their fights with the Reds. Leaning back on his heels, Wash cracked something that was not quite a smile.

            “Yeah, yeah I can.”

___________________________________________________

            There was hell and then there was what Tucker was living through. It was all because some people who he had never met like to play games with other people’s lives. Simulation troopers, it was odd to think that most of his adult life had been spent being the toy for someone else to experiment on. It was odd to think that a man he had lived with and slept next to for years was actually a computer program. It was odd to think that the very same computer program had died and left him alone. It was odd to think that he had an alien baby out in the world that he loved. It was odd to think that he was now almost solely responsible for keeping Caboose happy and alive. It was odd to think that a man who was almost directly responsible for the death of his best friend not once but twice, was now sleeping one room away from him. Tucker was…well he was quite simply fucking tired. Tired of losing friends, losing homes, and losing little bits of himself. It was now that he understood why Church was always so angry and depressed. The events of the past handful of years had left him wanting something new, something better. And Tucker wasn’t really sure if he would ever get that.

            Agent Washington. Tucker really wanted to hate Wash but he also understood where the guy was coming from. Abuse a human body and mind long enough, the result would be Wash. The man was survivor and was almost seemingly indestructible. There were certain things Tucker had noticed that were kind of heartbreaking in their own way. Wash didn’t sleep…like ever. If that blonde head ever did hit a pillow it was for only a few hours at a time. The other thing was that Wash was the most resilient motherfucker around; which also meant that he didn’t take care of himself. If it weren’t for Caboose’s cooking and Tucker’s subtle reminders that sleep was necessary for the human body to survive, Wash would probably be dead. It was amazing really, the level of abuse their new leader could withstand without complaint. So Tucker didn’t hate Wash. No, it hurt to be around him. It hurt because in a way Wash was a byproduct of Church.

            There were little things left over from Epsilon that Wash had retained for years. Which was yet another truly horrifying thing Caboose and Tucker had come to realize. Wash sometimes couldn’t really get ahold of reality. While Caboose existed in his own happy little world, Wash lived in the memories of Epsilon. Sometimes it was while he was awake and other times it was when he was sleeping. It never lasted long, the fits of confusion, but after they passed Wash would withdraw into himself. Not to mention the armor thing. Tucker who slept in the room right next to Wash, who he ate three square meals a day with, had never seen him in his civilian clothing once. It was a protection thing. Like Tucker said, abuse a human enough…

            Sleep was trying to keep its claws sunk deep into his head when he heard the door to his room slam open. Caboose for lack of a better description had the subtlety of a wrecking ball with an air horn attached to it. Tucker cracked his eyes open slowly and stared up his teammate.

            “What?” He groaned as Caboose invited himself to sit down on the bed. Tucker was not a small man standing at around six feet tall, but both his teammates towered over him. And Caboose sitting on his bed right next to him made Tucker feel decidedly tiny.

            “I have found something awesome,” Caboose trilled in his version of a whisper. There were only two rules with Caboose. They were pretty much the same rules he used with Junior when he was younger. First you could never leave Caboose alone with anything weaponized or sharp or flammable. The second was that if Caboose found something, it was better to be cautious and investigate immediately rather than later.

            “Alright alright.” Tucker stumbled out of bed and tugged on a pair of underwear and sweat pants. “Let’s go see whatever the hell you managed to dig up.”

            What Caboose managed to dig up was what appeared to be the restricted section of the armory. A restricted section that both he and Wash had missed when they had swept the base upon arrival. The room was roughly seventeen by seventeen and every single inch of the walls was lined with weapons.

            “Oh holy shit,” Tucker spoke under his breath. Caboose darted forwards and Tucker snagged the back of his hoody to keep him from bolting too far ahead. If he was being quite honest Caboose simply let himself be held still. The big idiot could life almost a six hundred pounds without any enhancements. The only thing stopping Caboose from dragging Tucker forwards was his gentle soul. “Buddy what did we talk about?” Caboose’s full lips pursed and his brows furrowed, which in turn caused his nose to crinkle up. The soft dusting of freckles across his nose did nothing to make him look older.

            “That I should not touch anything pointy or shooty just in case,” Caboose managed to recall with almost perfect accuracy.

            “That’s right,” Tucker let go of his hood and patted his back. “You said there were knives and guns in here?” Stepping to the left side of the room he took in the vast range of blade.

            “Yes! Agent Washingtub is going to love it!” Well Caboose wasn’t wrong. Their newest Freelancer did seem to have an affiliation for knives.

            And that is how Tucker found himself standing with Wash in the yard practice blade gripped tight in hand. It was more than a little hard on the nerves. There was a sense of discomfort, a blatant gap in their experience levels. In no means was Tucker going to be able to keep up with Wash.

            “You need to relax if this is going to work.” Wash changed his grip on the handle of the practice blade. Yeah, relax because that was an easy thing to do. “If it makes you feel any better, you are pretty much the only other soldier in this canyon with any type of combat talent.” He approached Tucker and gently corrected his stance with a press of his hand a bump of his knee. It felt slightly unnatural and a little uncomfortable. To Tucker’s surprise, Wash snorted at the look on his face.

            “This feels awful,” Tucker groaned but held the positioning. Laughing softly Wash backed up slightly to observe.

            “Your body isn’t used to it yet. It’ll take time but someday it will feel fluid,” Wash answered in his soft reassuring voice, “Close quarters combat is messy and can very easily go wrong. It’s not uncommon to take a few hits whilst defending or counter attacking. I am happy to say you have mastered the art of running away, dodging, and defending. However you tend to leave yourself open when you’re attacking. Your sword puts you at a slightly farther distance from your opponents than if you simply used a combat knife, use that.” Once again Wash adjusted Tucker body into a simple defensive stance. It was going to be a long day.

___________________________________________________

            As it turns out Tucker was not as bad at combat as Wash had suspected. Sure he was sloppy and always left his right side undefended, but he made for that with a quick head. At first Wash hadn’t thought of Tucker as intelligent, but was pleased to find he had been wrong. For someone who spent most of his time cracking jokes, Tucker was remarkably observant and quick witted. The ability he had to adapt to the situation around him was quite honestly something most soldiers wished they had. Back Tucker into a corner and he would use it as leverage. Incapacitate an arm and he’d kick out with a leg. Get into his blind spot and Tucker would move into yours. To his surprise Tucker was ambidextrous just like Wash. That opened up a world of possibilities. Although by the time they were done with hour number two of instruction, Tucker did look ready to fall over.

            “Go shower and eat,” Wash said and watched Tucker sigh in relief. Nodding towards their base Tucker gestured to Wash.

            “You coming?” For a moment Wash hesitated. A part of him wanted to say no, to walk away. Yet there was another part of him that itched for the comradery he had once had. That was the same part of him that was starved for touch, for affection, and friendship.

            “Yeah, let’s go.”

            The kitchen was actually quite large and well stocked thanks to a civilian smuggler that they had contacted. It had a mixture of earth and alien foods, including fruit. Now that they were inside Wash unlatched his helmet and settled it on the countertop. Next came his gloves which he placed atop the helmet.

            “Dear god go sit down,” Tucker stated, eyebrows half way up his forehead. Wash blinked in confusion. “You look ready to collapse. Did you sleep at all last night?” The silence was apparently the only answer Tucker needed. Deciding it was better not to argue, Wash settled down into one of the chairs, body slumping into a puddle of exhaustion.

            “So, where’d you learn to fight?” Tucker asked in a calm voice. The smell of what appeared to be potatoes filled Wash’s nose. It smelled like home.

            “Would you believe me if I told you my older sister?” Wash replied and Tucker burst into laughter. It was actually one of the few memories that Epsilon hadn’t rotted away. Mandy had been absolutely with a knife and by the time he was fifteen Wash knew all her tricks.

            “I could see that actually,” Tucker commented thoughtfully. It seemed like a loaded observation.

            “What do you mean?” Wash questioned and cocked a brow. For a moment there was some clanging of pots and pans around the kitchen and then Tucker answered.

            “You redirect quite a bit. You fight like someone with a smaller build, use your opponents weight against them.” Of the things Wash had been expecting that had not been it. It must have shown on his face because Tucker flung his hands in the air. “Just because I’m shit at fighting doesn’t mean I don’t understand the concepts behind different styles!” Observant and defensive, interesting.

            “I’m not judging,” Wash offered a half smile, “And you’re not wrong,” Tucker’s tension seemed to melt away softly. Navigating the waters of friendship with people you’ve previously wronged was hard. Blue base was a minefield of sensitive topics and old wounds. Tucker held onto those scars like old memories. In his own way, Wash did as well. The only difference was the end result. Wash had come out the other side cynical and a little broken in some places. Tucker had come out better for it; it had given him drive and purpose. It had snapped reality into perspective while Wash constantly stood at the edge of disbelief. Ain’t that a bitch.

            Fried potatoes had never tasted better. Wash couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him. It felt like a luxury. A tasty, heavenly luxury. Sleep was prying at the corners of Wash’s mind like a misty fog. Tucker was prattling on about various topics ranging from women he had slept with to his adventures with Alpha. It was nice to hear stories of a similar time.

            “Dude if you met Captain Flowers, you would have probably shot yourself.” Wash’s head shot up at that.

            “Captain Butch Flowers?” He asked and treaded rather lightly. Tucker nodded and stuck a potato into his mouth. “He was a Freelancer agent; Butch Flowers was his favorite codename.” Tucker choked and stared at Wash. Then shrugging, he went back to eating.

            “See now I don’t feel bad that Church gave him an aspirin overdose,” He told Wash matter of factly. It took a moment and then they were both laughing. It was quiet like a private joke. In a way it was a joke. A cosmic joke that universe had played on the course of their lives. Their shitty lives that had been intertwined for years before they met. All because of one man’s obsession. All of the terrible things that had happened to them were outline in a hilarious set of circumstances.

            “Really though man, you should try and get some rest.” Tucker gestured to the stairs that lead to the living quarters. “I can hold down the fort while you catch some z’s.” Wash nodded and stood without a word.

            “Wake me if the Reds decide they need to negotiate another surrender,” Tucker snorted in response.

            “Goodnight Wash,”

           

 


	2. Winter's Sad Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My family was Project Freelancer,” Wash stated calmly, “And their all dead now.”

“I want to wake up  
From this concussion  
But my dream is just not done  
I'm late again,  
It's just one of those  
Bad days look outside and  
Be careful what you ride  
You just might find  
That you're out of time  
To swim ashore  
If I drift long enough  
I'll be home

He's got delusions between his ears  
Man it takes up too much space  
And all that tension between his gears man  
He'll never ever leave this place  
He's got stones instead of bones  
And everybody knows  
Ah, man, that can make you real real slow  
And if heaven was below  
He'd know…”

  * “Drink the Water”, Jack Johnson



It was a cold morning in what would be considered their planet’s December. The birds were slumbering. The air felt thin and harsh against the skin. The trees had dropped all their leaves and stood menacing against the sky. It was Wash’s favorite thing about the small little planet. While apart of project Freelancer there hadn’t been much of a chance to experience the seasons. The Mother of Invention sat a comfortable seventy-two degrees at all times. The cold was something familiar. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, he would simply go outside and watch the snow fall and breathe. Some nights Wash would sit atop the base and just laugh. Maine and Carolina had hated the cold. It was too harsh for their “sensitive skin”.  Connie said it made her grumpy. It made him think back to their little team. There were very few people that could get along with Connie and Maine. It was a personality thing. Wash had been wide eyed and a little too wet behind the ears for his own good, but not a fool. Maine was physically intimidating and had the terrifying ability to hold a grudge for years. Connie, well she had been detached and self-righteous. Surprisingly the three of them meshed well. It made Wash miss what could have been in a different

            Maybe they would have been happy, maybe. It wasn’t really worth spending his time on but it was good to remember some of the memories. Ever since Wash started training nights had been getting a little easier. Socializing took a large sum of his daily energy. As an introvert Wash struggled to keep up with Tucker and Caboose. The two of them had been in a slightly better mood as well. Things were looking better at Blue base. They were safe, they were well fed, and they were well armed. And tentatively Wash was starting to like and trust his team. Sure they were still god awful at their jobs but they put in the effort. Things were looking up.

            When his patrol was nearly over the crunch of snow alerted him to a presence. Tucker strode towards him with a fast gate.

            “Dude, you will never ever hear me say this again but the weather on this planet makes me miss Blood Gulch.” A smile broke out across Wash’s face.

            “Not a fan of the cold?” Wash asked offhandedly and leaned against the stone walls of the base.

            “Fuck no!” Tucker exclaimed and snapped his helmet into place. There was an audible sigh of relief as the armor’s temperature regulators kicked in.

            “I don’t know. It’s peaceful like this,” Wash commented. Tucker turned towards him with what Wash assumed was a dirty stare.

            “You’re a robot.” Tucker shifted on his feet trying to get comfortable standing, “No one actually likes the cold, they just don’t like being hot.” It wasn’t funny, not really. Tucker couldn’t have known how much that statement made Wash’s day. It was the exact thing Connie used to say

            “I had a friend who used to say the same thing,” Wash Chuckled softly. 

            For a little while Wash walked along side Tucker simply letting him ramble on about Junior. It was interesting to hear someone who Wash thought would be a terrible father talk about his child so animatedly.

            “We tried teaching him English but that didn’t really work out well,” Tucker explained their misadventures into the English language. Wash nodded and then an odd thought occurred to him.

            “Would you ever consider settling down and starting a family?” Wash asked. Tucker stopped so abruptly that Wash almost ran into his back.

            “Haven’t really thought about it until now,” Tucker spoke as if he had been startled by the answer. Wash found floundering for words rather endearing. It was one of his many quirks, when Tucker was caught off guard he had the tendency to stutter out whatever came to mind. It was a rare but precious thing.

            “Surely you have considered it as an option at some point,” Wash offered.

            “No I really haven’t. Honestly I’m a soldier, even if I’m not great it. Plus Junior is all I need.” With the answer out in the open Wash nodded his head and continued walking. Tucker soon caught up and kept pace beside Wash. It was interesting to see how jumpy he got at the mere mention of family. “What about you?” Tucker asked innocently. It shouldn’t have affected him the way it did but it made Wash sad

            “My family was Project Freelancer,” Wash stated calmly, “And their all dead now.” It was a little morbid but true. Tucker got quiet after that and soon sleep pulled at the edges of Wash’s head. Bidding Tucker farewell, he wandered into the base. Sleep and old memories called his name.

            _Snow fell from the sky in a beautiful display. There was the distinct smell of blood and gun powder all around him. The mission had gone wrong, so terribly wrong. The backup hadn’t gotten the call for extraction. The radio signal was being jammed. In the edges of his periphery there was the flash of Carolina’s teal armor and streaks of Connie’s dull brown. There was the sound of North shouting something over the radios, distressed. York was crouched down behind cover and firing the occasion burst of a pistol round. Everything had gone wrong. Carolina’s missions never went wrong. It quite simply didn’t happen. She was the only one who could seemingly bat a thousand with her eyes closed and one hand behind her back. And that was the problem because the one time a mission under her command failed, meant it had to be the worst shit storm in history. Not only were the radios jammed, but there had been traps. Nasty traps. When those traps exploded shrapnel got sent flying. Some of it had flown and hit Wash right in the thigh and abdomen. That’s why the air smelled like blood._

_Just as things started to get a little hazy, something jostled him out of the quiet of his head. Carolina was crouched down in front of him and helmet settled in the snow, the visor cracked. A small stream of blood cascaded from her forehead and stained the edge of her bangs._

_“You need to stay awake,” Her voice was soothing as it was demanding. Wash reached out with his hand only to meet air. Carolina then reached out and gripped his hand tightly with her own and then stared him down. “I’m not a medic so I don’t really have the tact for this. I have no pain killers to give you, so take a deep breath.” Slowly she unlatched the armor of his chest plate and shin guards. It peeled away from the Kevlar under suit with a wet sound. There was the harsh sting of biofoam in his abdomen and then his leg. Carolina then snapped the armor back into place. The nervous expression on her face hand no disapated_

_“s-fine, I am fine.” Wash slurred and his head lulled to the side. The gun fire had ceased and Wash could hear the sound of orders being barked out. Things started to get hazy again, the world slipping away into murmured phrases and the occasional stray shot._

_Wash didn’t wake up in the med bay with a morphine drip. Instead he woke up in an abandoned building, the hum of a healing unit, and searing pain in his abdomen and leg. From where he was lying down, he could see that the snow fall had probably reached dangerous levels. The sky outside was a rather dreary shade of grey accented by the smoke cause by explosions. Beside his makeshift bed, Connie was asleep slumped against the wall. She looked young, sometimes it was easy to forget she was the baby of their Freelancer family. Barely twenty-one as of the previous month. With her eyes close and mouth hanging open, Connie looked like a kid. Chestnut hair, full lips, and thick manicured brows. As well as full lips that were starting to look a bit blue._

_“Connie,” Wash gritted out with a small amount of effort. Startled into wakefulness, she looked around for the offender and then relaxed once she realized who was speaking. It never failed. Connie had reflexes like a cat. Leaning forwards she gave him a once over with her stead gaze._

_“Wash, try not to move.” Connie laid her palm against his forehead. There was something softer about her in moments like these. Somewhere in the back of his mind it was easy to picture the girl she could have been. An understanding wife or doting mother. As a child he suspected Connie wore her hair in pigtails and wore beautiful sun dresses. Instead he had a war hardened woman with eyes that were a little too soft and sad. A war hardened woman who spent more time scrubbing the blood out from under finger nails than painting them. All of that was fine, but Wash honestly wished he could have gotten to know the gentle version of his partner. “Extraction is on the way. We have you stable but if you open up any of your old wounds that probably will not remain the case.” Following orders he didn’t move, just stared out the window._

_“How long have we been here?” He asked. Connie shot him a nasty look and resumed leaning against the wall._

_“Six hours too long,” She growled and glowered out at the cloudy sky. “This cold is pretty bad; it makes my skin peel and puts me in a mood.” Wash blinked at her sleepily._

_“I didn’t know you hated the cold,” Wash murmured. With Connie everything was mystery so when new information about her came to light it always made for good conversation._

_“Oh I do,” She said bitterly, “People that enjoy cold weather are idiots who can’t handle a little heat,” Wash laughed and it jostled him most painfully. The sun did him no favors. He couldn’t even tan, just got sunburnt and returned with a few more freckles._

_“I’ll have you know I enjoy the cold Connie. It’s relaxing, maybe you should give it a try,” He told her and immediately regretted it. Some battles weren’t worth fighting. After getting to know her, Wash had learned that Connie could hold a grudge just as well as Maine._

_Not long after the sound of Pelican engines were within earshot. As soon as they were on the ground Wash was being strapped to a stretcher and carted aboard. The medics on staff shook their heads in disbelief. Wash had a reputation with the medics. Danger magnet. Some of them joking nicknamed him the cockroach. Honestly they weren’t wrong. In the year since he had joined Freelancer, Wash had been to medical sixteen times. Only two of those times had been non-life threatening. Carolina hovered like a mother hen despite the fact that she had said numerous times she knew he was fine. That’s how it always was with her. When the first drip of morphine spread through his veins like a wild fire, Wash smiled._

_“Oh how come he gets the good stuff?” York called out. Carolina leveled him a vicious glare._

_“Because he is my favorite,” She answered tersely._

            The base honest to god rattled and Wash was on his feet with pistol gripped tightly in hand. When he opened the door Tucker was rushing down the hall, sword in hand. It was clearly Caboose’s turn to guard the base. Knowing Caboose he probably just let their attacker right inside. Usually Wash wouldn’t care because he was dealing with the Reds, but this seemed calculated. Darting down the hall and into the kitchen Wash was greeted with a sight he wasn’t fully prepared to deal with. The Reds were huddled behind an overturned table, Simmons was gripping Caboose’s shirt tightly to keep him in place. Tucker stood that the ready, sword drawn. All of them were looking at the door with varying degrees of hesitation.

            “Was that Tex?” Simmons spoke and his voice cracked. Caboose shook his head vehemently as did Tucker. Whatever was trying to come through the door was doing their damnedest to bend the metal out of shape. Wash raised his gun, steadied his breathing, and settled into proper form. The safety came off.

            The door fell flat off its hinges and clattered to the floor. What happened next was a flurry of motion on the part of Tucker, Caboose, and the Reds. Wash on the other hand was frozen in place. The entire world tipped upside down. Teal armor flashed around the room, sending the simulation troopers flying. Then things got quiet. Oh so very quiet. Tucker was staring at Wash confused. Brow tilted up and lips in a frown. It was like being paralyzed.

            “You’re dead,” Wash whispered. There was a snort from inside their invader’s helmet. “You fell off of a cliff-” The next few words stayed lodged firmly in his throat. Like a shot of alcohol he didn’t want to take.

            “Oh come on rookie, didn’t you miss me?” Carolina asked him. The voice was all wrong, devoid of a playful lilt. It was just flat.

            “Everyday,” Wash murmured and slowly crossed the room. With a practiced motion, she unlatched her helmet and settled it on the countertop. When they two of them were close enough to touch, Wash wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. For a moment the two of them just stayed there. A little piece of the past for both of them. When their eyes met it was like looking in a mirror. There were deep purple bags under Carolina’s eyes. A few new scars littered her once flawless face. The long hair she had loved so much was hacked into a wild pixie cut. When they pulled apart, Tucker was the first to speak.

            “Well shit, is it a requirement that all Blue team leaders have scary psycho half woman half shark girlfriends? Because I am not fucking prepared for that,”

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter out. Sorry it's a day late, I hope you all enjoy! It was great to hear from all of you <3


	3. The Past Will Dirty Your Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was the thing, if Tucker was a better man maybe he would have stuck around to talk to Wash and get a little information. But Tucker was not a better man. If the rug was going to get pulled out from under him again, he didn’t want to know before it happened.

“One does not abandon, even briefly, one’s bed of nails, but is attached to wherever one goes.”

-William Styron

_A helmet clattered to the ground. Labored breathing resounded and echoed around the lockers. There was the distinct sound of crunching metal and shattering glass. Wash sat quietly on the bench, waiting for Carolina to finish. It was rare to see her in such a state, usually so calm and collected. It had been different this time. The Director made a comment, something personal. It was at that moment that Wash realized. Carolina was a soldier for one reason and one reason only. That single reason explained her determination, the competitiveness. It was sad really. The Director had finally pushed a little too hard and set something off. The man had unconsciously flipped a switch that was underused and almost completely untouched._

_“Where the hell does he get off!” Kicking out she struck one of the lockers, metal denting in. Before the anger there had been sadness and grief. And before that had been the quiet acceptance. It was all wrong. South was the one who was meant to be ripping locker doors off their hinges and seething with rage, not Carolina._

_After some more screaming and kicking, Carolina calmed and Wash looked her over for a moment. He knew he shouldn’t have been around to hear the conversation that took place between the Director and Carolina. It had been instinct. Get out, his gut had told him, run away. Instead he had been glued to the spot watching the horror on Carolina’s face as her father spoke to her like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, all because of a simple mistake with paperwork._

_“He’s family,” Wash spoke quietly and Carolina’s shoulders hunched forwards. It was easy to forget that she was incredibly petite, the armor gave her a few inches of height and boosted her strength tremendously. But right then in that moment she looked frail and vulnerable. “Family always knows how to make you hurt,” It was wisdom that his older sister Mandy had passed down to him._

_“I’m not hurt,” She seethed, “We are beyond that point now.” It was uttered through clenched teeth and a locked jaw. Family was always hard with her. It was easy to see why._

_“When I was just about to finish high school I came out to my family,” Wash kept his voice even, staring at the lockers. “My sister Abbey told my mom in passing. It wasn’t a big deal to her that I was gay, but we lived in a small and conservative community. And before I knew it I was tossed out of the closet on my hands and knees. It took my mom six months to talk to me like her kid again; she still doesn’t accept that part of me. I spent so much time trying to please her that I lost sight of myself in the process. As someone who cares about you as a friend and as a teammate. Don’t let that happen to you.” Wash had said his piece whether the advice was wanted or not._

_“My mother was from the South,” Carolina spoke softly. “When I was born she named me Charlotte. After Charlotte North Carolina. It was where we spent our free time in the summers when I was young. My name means free man. When she died I became tethered to the legacy she left behind. So I made my self better. I have destroyed my body, I have destroyed my happiness, and I have destroyed my friendships all for what? So I could move out of her shadow?” It was spoken bitterly but her voice wavered._

_“You could always just walk away,” Wash offered up. Carolina looked up at him sadly, tiny pin sized tears were settled at the corner of her eyes._

_“No, not from this I can’t.” Standing Wash put his hand on her shoulder. Carolina leaned into the touch and rested some of her weight against his body, the same way a wounded soldier might. An idea popped into Wash’s head and he pondered it a moment before speaking._

_“We don’t have any missions tomorrow and I can understand if you don’t want to be alone right now. You’re welcome to come back to my room; we can talk, I can braid your hair, and you can drink some of my contraband liquor.” He offered and Carolina snorted into his neck._

_“That sounds nice,”_

_Watching Carolina tip toe into his room like a cautious kitten was rather amusing. Unsure of herself she looked at his sparsely decorated walls, she paused when she saw a photo of Wash and two beautiful girl._

_“Are these your sisters?” She asked and looked over the picture. He hadn’t been more than sixteen in the photo._

_“Yes, Mandy is the tall one with dark hair and Abbey is the small one with green eyes and freckles.” Wash walked to the cabinet mounted on the wall and took out his bottle of whiskey. Carolina accepted it graciously and unscrewed the top._

_“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this, like a floundering teenager. Like I can’t decide whether to hold my tongue or scream.” She sat down on the floor and leaned back against his bed. Taking a swig of the liquor he provided, she cringed slightly and let out a puff of air. “It’s been even longer since I’ve drank,” She uttered. Wash grabbed a brush from the bathroom and settled on the bed behind Carolina. It was a slow process of untangling a mass of copper hair that she didn’t seem to care too much about._

_“We all have our demons Carolina,” Wash murmured, “Yours are just a little more...upsetting than most. You’re allowed to be angry. You know that right?” He asked her softly. After knocking back another shot she answered in her low and calm way._

_“Believe me I was for a very long time. You should have seen me in my teen years. I went through a goth phase,” She smiled ruefully, “Mom died in battle during the great war. The Director loved her; I have good memories of the time before. She liked to wear cowboy boots and sun dresses. Her hair was blonde and always a little messy. The Director and mom used to slow dance in the living room whenever she would come home on leave. After she died, the Director just couldn’t let go. It was like he was a ghost. He left me, a twelve year old little girl, alone to deal with her mother’s death by herself. I was angry, disobedient. To escape him I joined the military. But look where I am now.” She gestured around the room with her hand._

_“Lucky for us we aren’t bound by our parent’s sins.” Wash took the bottle as it was offered and took a swig._

_“No, but we are bound to their memories aren’t we,” Carolina huffed, “Do you still talk to your mother or the rest of the family?” She asked quietly. Wash sighed and leaned forward, depositing the bottle onto the floor._

_“Only on her birthday and holidays. I talk to Abbey and Mandy the most.” He replied tersely, “Project Freelancer has become more of a family to me,” Wash explained. It was almost unspoken that Wash looked up to Carolina. She was like a big sister. Always ready to swoop in and save his ass at the last second just to teach him a lesson._

_“I knew there was a reason you were my favorite,” She chuckled softly. Wash snorted and went back to braiding her hair._

_“I thought York would have that honor,” Carolina sputtered and hissed at his remark. Wash laughed and soon Carolina’s shoulder shook with laughter of her own._

_Carolina slept like a rock. An unmovable, unflinching rock. Pulling the covers back, he tucked Carolina in. Sleep had jostled one of her pristine braids out of its tight confines. Messy suited Carolina better than anyone. Quietly he opened the door and slipped into the hall. To his surprise and almost absolute horror, York was stationed outside his door._

_“Why is it that my girlfriend is in your room, probably in your bed, instead of with me?” York’s low drawl sounded agitated. That was the thing about York, he was a joker but when he got genuinely upset the easy going façade slipped away quite fast._

_“Carolina,” Wash paused, “She had rough night. I think she needed a change in scenery and a friendly shoulder to lean on. And don’t worry I would never try anything with her.” Wash let his head fall against the door and stared up at the ceiling._

_“Why, you scared of girls like her?” York snorted in disbelief. Wash leveled him with his best imitation of a Carolina scowl he could possibly manage._

_“No, because I would rather suck cock than stare at a girl’s boobs all day.” That seemed to shut York up rather fast. “Let her be for tonight. If she wants to talk about anything, she’ll come to you.” It would take time. York and Carolina had an interesting relationship. Like how Wash’s admiration was unspoken, so was York’s relationship with Carolina._

_“Hey Wash,” York called after him as he headed towards the mess hall, “Thanks for looking out for her.”_

     If there was a god, Tucker was pretty sure that it had be a woman with a vengeful sense of humor. Until he joined the military he had never met women that hated him so much or could punch harder than any normal human being. Between Tex and the new chick he really didn’t know who was worse. It had been odd to see Wash embrace that Carolina woman so freely. They had history that much was obvious. It was also obvious that both of them had felt overwhelming loss and relief at seeing each other again. The thing is that Tucker didn’t like Carolina. Unlike Tex, who at least had a sense of humor, Carolina was cold as ice. She was all business, no all-knowing smirks or playful remarks. Tucker, Caboose, and the Reds had vacated the kitchen to allow the two of them to catch up. Something about the situation felt wrong. Beside him Caboose was twitching with worry, fretting with the fraying edge of his tee-shirt. They were in for a long night.

     Once they realized that the discussion between the two former Freelancers was going to take a while, they went to bed. The Reds were put into one of the spare bedrooms and Caboose followed Tucker into his room. It was rare for them to share space but sometimes when the world got a little too confusing or violent Caboose would stay with Tucker. It was like placating a nervous child. Tucker would keep his voice soft and his body language open. Sometimes just sleeping next to someone was enough to calm his nerves and sometimes there was never enough love and comfort to calm Caboose down. Luckily it seemed Caboose’s exhaustion outweighed his anxiety.

     “Tucker, do you think the mean lady is going to take Agent Washingtub away?” Caboose asked, his large eyes watery. “Because I do not want to lose another friend,” Tucker sighed and leaned back against the wall.

     “I don’t know Caboose,” He answered honestly. That was the thing, if Tucker was a better man maybe he would have stuck around to talk to Wash and get a little information. But Tucker was not a better man. If the rug was going to get pulled out from under him again, he didn’t want to know before it happened. It would simply be easier to cut ties and deal with losses before the inevitable tragedy took place. Because he didn’t hate Wash. Not in the slightest. Tucker could almost even say that he admired their leader. So no he could be the bigger man.

     A soft knock came at the door a little bit past two in the morning. Sleep had long since taken Caboose to dream land, but Tucker was still leaned against the wall staring at the ceiling. Carefully he slid out of bed and stepped into the hall. Wash stood near the wall looking more tired than ever before. The cold look that had been slipping out of his gaze after being around the them for a while was now back in full swing. The man’s broad shoulders were stiff with discomfort.

     “We need to talk,” Wash said, his voice sounded off like there was something stuck in his throat. Closing the door softly, Tucker followed Wash back to the Kitchen where Carolina was seated at the table. Out of her armor she looked tiny, bare standing taller than five foot. Yet she exuded silent confidence and strength.

     “What do you know about the A.Is of project Freelancer?” She asked, her voice was low and gravelly. Though the most striking feature about her was her eyes. They were a vibrant shade of green, almost unnatural. That wasn’t what Tucker noticed first. First he noticed the pain and betrayal sitting there and reflecting back at him. Before answering her Tucker walked to the coffee pot and poured a large glass for himself and then one for wash. It was a petty power move but Carolina seemed to understand.

     “I know that they are the reason we got fucked up for a long time and were the source of almost all of our problems at Blood Gulch.” Tucker settled at the table and stared Carolina down. It might just have been his imagination but she actually looked a little impressed.

     “Wash told me you lived with the Alpha for years and then Epsilon for some time,” She gritted out, “In that time did he ever mention the Director of Project Freelancer or where he might be?” Tucker cocked his head to the side.

     “No, but your residential A.I. thought he was the director. It’s how we managed to get into all of those secure facilities and let tell you that was fucking awful.” It was Carolina’s turn to thoughtful.

     “We are going after Epsilon Tucker,” Wash spoke up behind him, “Do you think Caboose might be able to get him out of the memory unit?” Tucker snorted at the thought and Carolina’s eyebrows shot up her forehead.

     “Wash you know that anything with Caboose is a straight fifty-fifty on whether it’s going to work beautifully or wind up going up in flames.” Tucker ran a hand through his curls and sighed deeply, “But if he thinks he is going to be saving Church then he’s going to be all in,” He answered candidly.

     “Then it’s settled. In two days’ time we will head for the depot where they are keeping the Epsilon-” Tucker raised his hand to stop her from talking.

     “I never said that I would let you take him,” Tucker stated as coldly as possible. Sure Caboose and Tucker had never been the best of friends but with recent events the two of them had gotten close.

     “What?” Carolina growled and leaned forwards in her seat. Wash was moving closer to Tucker.

     “Listen lady I don’t fucking know you. And making friends with the Freelancers has never gone especially well for us in the past. Wash here is the only one we’ve ever really wanted to keep.” Tucker gestured lazily over to where Wash was standing. “And I can’t say you made a very good first impression. We were doing just fine until you came along. You can’t just show up and expect us to go along with whatever it is you’re planning,” Carolina’s jaw was clenched tight, eyes hard.

     “Tucker,” Wash said in warning. Not even sparing him a glance, he kept his eyes focused on Carolina.

     “I’m not asking.” Carolina snarled and stood to her full height, “You will help me. This isn’t a negotiation, this is a hostile takeover. Go wake up your teammate. Go wake up the Red idiots. We are leaving tonight.” She said as if her word was law.

     “I’ll do it,” Wash said and Tucker’s eyes darted to him. Betrayal and hurt flooded his senses. Apparently Wash still knew how to stick a knife into his spine even after all they had been through.

     Wash hated being wrong. Carolina was still alive. There were so many emotions swirling around in his head, so many memories, that everything felt foggy and slow. The past always loved its irony. Tucker was understandably mad. Caboose had been on board as soon as he realized they were rescuing Church. Wash, well he was just left reeling. To his surprise the anxiety wasn’t as loud as he expected. The anger wasn’t as overwhelming as he thought. It was just numbness that infected his soul. They were driving, Wash sat next to Tucker silently. It was nearly unbearable. They had been on track to becoming friends, now they weren’t speaking.

     “I’m sorry,” Wash finally said. Tucker’s fist clenched the wheel a little tighter and said nothing in return. “Carolina, she’s my family,” He offered up. Tucker snorted low in his throat.

     “So were we,” Tucker spat out bitterly. Those words stung like a slap across the face and made his limbs feel frozen. “I don’t know who or what Carolina is to you, but you seriously man what you did is not cool.” There was nothing to be done now, the choice had already been made.

     “There’s more to this than you know Tucker,” Wash tried to explain whilst being vague.

     “That’s the thing Wash,” Tucker spoke attentively choosing his words, “Carolina won’t explain it to us. You won’t explain it to us. You couldn’t even look me in the eye,” He muttered.

     “It’s not my secret to tell,” Wash explained. Tucker settled further into the seat and didn’t speak for the rest of the day.

     Camp was made by the water, a small pond. The sounds of various wildlife echoed all around them. Carolina stood scrutinizing each and every one of the Simulation troopers. It was hard not to stare at the scars that covered her body and face. The warmth of the firelight cast her face in shadows. It was like looking a ghost or a fading memory. Despite the fact that he was tired, Wash knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep. The past was still sitting a little close for comfort. All of his memories from Freelancer were bouncing around in his skull making it hard to breathe. Memories from Epsilon kept flashing all around him. Memories of Tucker and Caboose that made Wash’s heart ache. It was going to be a long night.

     Caboose was eyeing Carolina for a while before he ever decided to speak to her. Wash figured that the giant man was somehow trying cope with her unexpected arrival.

     “You’re like Tex!” Caboose exclaimed from across the fire and Wash froze. Carolina’s head shot up, a look of disbelief marring her features.

     “I am nothing like her,” She snarled at Caboose. Unfazed he continued to speak.

     “You are a Freelancer, you like hitting things, and you like scaring people. That makes you at least seventy percent Tex.” It seemed Caboose’s version of math was just adding up similarties. In his own way, Caboose had hit the head of the nail spot on. Carolina seethed silently. Wash knew that if she didn’t need Caboose to get Epsilon out of his unit, he would be bleeding at that moment.

     “The comparison is rather uncanny,” Simmons spoke from across the fire. Grif nodded in agreement. “Agent Tex always used fear or intimidation tactics to get what she wanted.” Carolina’s face fell for a moment as if remembering something about herself.

     “I am not her,” She hissed at them. For the first time that night Tucker spoke.

     “No, you’re worse.”

     Tucker took first patrol and wandered around the perimeter of the camp. There was nothing but the sounds of the fire crackling and Caboose’s soft snores from inside his tent. The whole Carolina leading the team to rescue Epsilon was a little too much. Tucker had tried putting Church out of his head for months now. But in light of what happened he was forced to face old memories, memories that hurt. Tucker liked to believe that Church had finally found Tex in the memory unit and that they were living a happy life together. He had known them long enough to know that they always found each other in the end. They always were tied together by the strands of fate. If Tucker was being honest, he hoped they were happy at least. They deserved that much.

     An hour and half into his patrol Wash approached him. To Tucker’s shock he wasn’t wearing any armor. Blonde hair mussed from tossing and turning as well as the dark circles indicated that Wash wasn’t sleeping again.

     “I’m sorry,” Wash said again and this time he sounded pensive. Tucker turned to him and sighed. Slipping off his helmet, he let it clatter to the ground.

     “You don’t get it,” Tucker said and he for once felt remarkably calm. “I’m not mad, really I’m not.” Wash glanced at him and for a moment their eyes met. Wash reached out with an ungloved hand and placed it gently on Tucker’s shoulder. It had been so long since either of them had any physical forms of comfort that it was almost startling.

     “I know I could have handled the situation better but you have to understand that Carolina is like a sister to me. For years to my knowledge she was dead. So when she showed up I lost my composure.” Wash moved into Tucker’s space, “I wish I could explain what this means to her but I can’t. It’s her business and her secret to keep. And I know she seems a little…bitchy but she is compassionate and gentle under all that attitude.” Tucker huffed out a sigh like it weighed too much in his lungs.

     “Whatever man, but if she does anything to Caboose we are leaving. I mean it.” Tucker shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It was a nervous tick.

     “Thank you,” Wash murmured quietly and started back towards camp.

     Okay so Tucker wasn’t being completely honest there. He wouldn’t abandon Wash any sooner than he would abandon Caboose. It was for a different reason though. There was this thing Tucker had known about himself for awhile now. It made him frustrated he hadn't noticed it earlier. Wash was beautiful, sculpted, and freckled and it did something to Tucker. Sure he appreciated a good male specimen but Wash was different than even that. Wash made Tucker have feelings and Tucker knew that those feelings would come back to bite him in the ass. And after the day they had, he could tell they already were. Tucker wanted to hate Wash, dear god did he. The man was unapproachable and untouchable. The man was skittish and broken. But for now Tucker would just have to be content with the hand he had been dealt. Tucker could stand being put on the back burner while Wash chased after whatever demon that haunted Carolina. He could do that because sometimes he was the better man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! I am really enjoying writing this. I like the idea that Carolina was always fond of Wash and found his person quirks endearing.
> 
> It is always amazing to hear from all of you!


	4. The Goodbyes I Never Thought I'd Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain had always been gospel, but then again so had truth. Wash had always been a liar. Lying meant survival.

“The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you

It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed I’d need somebody like you

I never dreamed I’d know somebody like you

 

And I wanna fall in love

And I wanna fall in love with you”

 

“Wicked Game”, James Vincent Mcmorrow

 

     Sometimes it’s hard to put it to words, how much Tucker felt about everything going on around him. The emotions were sufficiently horrible and moderately repressed and that was absolutely fine. But the words always seemed to either fly out or get stuck somewhere between the throat and mouth. The idea that they were going to retrieve Epsilon…Church…with only the vague possibility that he survived was a terrible plan. The idea that Caboose was going to be the one getting Church out of the memory unit was a terrible plan. Every word that seemingly came out of Carolina virulent mouth was seemingly a terrible plan. But Tucker kept his mouth shut. Tucker always kept his mouth shut when it came to things that actually mattered.

     They had been traveling for days. The terrain was rough and the air was growing thinner. The base was apparently tucked away into the mountains. At least it was a pretty drive. There wasn’t the stench of pollution or the sound of traffic. It was just the sound of the forest trails and the wind. Sometimes Caboose would hum a soft tune, like a lullaby to pass the time. For the most part the Reds kept to themselves and out of Carolina’s way. Tucker and Caboose didn’t have that luxury afforded to them because she was riding beside them on her mongoose the entire trip. And Wash was like a shell, a cold broken shell of the man that Tucker had just started becoming friends with. Now he just sat in the driver’s seat clutching the wheel. Even Caboose could feel the shift in the mood and nervously clung to Tucker’s side. The giant man didn’t flash a toothy smile or jump excitedly that they were going to rescue his self-declared best friend. Caboose was quiet and that was never a good sign. Everything felt wrong, off. There was a little voice at the back of Tucker’s mind that screamed at him to run before the shit hit the fan yet again. To just take Caboose and leg it back to camp. But Tucker was loyal, maybe even to a fault, so he stayed put in the passenger seat twiddling his thumbs and biting his lip.

     They stopped at mid-day to stretch and eat lunch. The finish line was in sight and Carolina had laser focused in on her goal. At least the air here smelled clean and there was a beautiful creek flowing next to camp. Tucker yanked off his helmet and gloves; kneeling down, he ran his fingers over the surface of the water. It was absolutely freezing to the touch. It felt refreshing as Tucker splashed it onto his face. It felt like an ice cold wake up call.

     “What do you think you’re doing?” Carolina hissed from behind, her voice pitched low. Tucker leaned back on his haunches and clasped his hands together.

     “Taking a minute to breathe,” He answered tersely, “Is that a problem?” Carolina made a sound at the back of her throat as if reeling in disbelief.

     “You should never remove your helmet when you’re in the field. If We had to engage, you would be unprotected.” Carolina teal armor came into view, well just her legs. Tucker didn’t give her the satisfaction of looking up at her.

     “Listen lady,” Tucker bit out, “I really could give a shit less about what you think. The only reason I’m here is that you managed to get Caboose to come on your suicide mission. And I think you’ll find out pretty quick that this mission isn’t going to go your way. And I cannot tell you how happy that is going to make me,” Tucker sneered at the woman. For a moment Carolina was silent and then she cocked her head to the side.

     “What are you to Wash?” She asked and there was something different about the way she phrased it. Whether it was the tone of her voice or the clarity with which she spoke, it put Tucker on edge.

     “I’m his teammate, maybe even a friend.” Tucker stood up, helmet tucked under his arm.

     “Really? I thought you might have been more,” Carolina replied and it was obvious she was trying to mock him. “I’ve known him for years and there are very very few people he wastes his time with. Just watch yourself because if I-” Pursing his lips, Tucker stepped forwards and into Carolina’s space.

     “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” Tucker spoke with bitterness in his voice and anger bubbling in his chest, “We are teammates and maybe friends. That’s all we are. A maybe or an almost, and do you want to know why?” Tucker growled.

     “Why?” Carolina spoke through gritted teeth.

     “Because of you! Because there had to be one last little part of Project Freelancer that had to come crawling out of the shit. You don’t get to lecture me! You weren’t here! Because apparently you’ve been alive the entire fucking time he thought you were dead. You weren’t here to help him! You weren’t here to rescue him even though his world went up in flames,” Tucker’s voice was getting louder by the second. Taking a large step forward, Carolina stood chest to chest with Tucker. Though he was a head taller than her, she somehow managed to make him feel small.

     “You know nothing about him or me!” She yelled, her wicked eyes flashing dangerously. Tucker froze and looked her dead in the eye.

     “I know he wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. I know that he doesn’t like fire or tight spaces. I know he hates the idea of another AI being planted in his head. I know that Agent Maine and Connie were his best friends. I know these things because he was opening up. Because he was starting to get comfortable. He was getting better!” Tucker spoke viciously, “And now your back and he’s back to how he was before. So you can fuck off.” Without another word Tucker spun around and marched back to camp. Carolina didn’t bother to chase after him or get the final word in. The only sound Tucker heard was the hiss of her helmet being snapped into place.

___________________________________________________

     It was interesting really. Watching Carolina try and fill in the empty spaces around her. The Blues and Reds wanted nothing to do with her. And Carolina herself was on a rampage of shouting orders and minor physical abuse to get them to listen. It was so different than how things were before. Heart was the problem. Carolina had always cared a little too much for her own good. Felt too many emotions and had no idea how to deal with them. It also seemed that the years had made her bitter, even dangerous. A part of him desperately wanted to tell her that he didn’t want to be out in the mountains. The other part of him was screaming don’t let go. It was tearing Wash apart.

     Pain had always been gospel, but then again so had truth. Wash had always been a liar. Lying meant survival. When he was a child there had been certain people that just couldn’t handle the truth. There were two types of liars; there were those who lied to others. They did it to protect others, gain something, or just because they could. Then there were those who lied to themselves. Those little lies that drove the darkness away from them. The people that lied to themselves were always dangerous. Their backs were always against a wall. Wash fell in the latter group after the fall of Project Freelancer. It was always I’m fine, I can’t be used anymore, or I’m free. None of those things were true. Once Carolina resurfaced the illusion was shattered. There was nowhere to run. There was nowhere to hide. There was no escaping the past. Sure he had been happy to see her, but the Carolina now was different. Just like him, a part of Carolina died all those years ago on the cliffside of snowy hell. But that was alright because Wash was able to convince himself that he was in fact doing the right thing. That he was justified. Even if Tucker wouldn’t look him in the eye anymore.

     There had been a moment. Where Wash had felt the tickle of something that he had long since given up hoping for. It had been on the first night of their little adventure. When Wash had reached out and touched Tucker, if only for a moment and against any instinct, he felt calm, happy, complete. It had been so long since Wash had felt that way with anyone. It was a complex and tangled mess of emotions that burned a heavy hole through his heart. But it was clear that those thoughts, those feelings, would need to be pushed down. Disassociating and lying, those were two things Wash had mastered a long time ago.

___________________________________________________

**_My dearest brother,_ **

**_It’s been so long since you last wrote home Mandy and I are starting to get worried. Any day now we are expecting to get a knock on our door and find an officer standing on our step to tell us that you finally managed to get yourself killed…We don’t need to know where you are or what mission you’re on, but at least let us know you’re alright. Please._ **

****

**_If you are getting our letters and are simply ignoring them, then let me tell you about the simple farm life. We grow alfalfa and the cutter bees are buzzing about content. Mandy wakes up every morning and when she drinks her coffee, she just glowers up at the sky as if she can make it rain through sheer willpower alone. Personally I like the summers here. There’s something so great about the heat. I think you’d like it here. It’s quiet, you can’t even hear the sounds of the city. If you need a good place to think, the farm is great._ **

****

**_I’m seeing someone. Yeah I know big surprise, but I think you’d actually like this one. Mandy doesn’t seem to mind him too much, so that’s gotta count for something right? I miss you. There are so many things that I wish I could tell you, so many things I need your advice about. I never thought I would exist in a world where I wouldn’t be able to talk to my big brother. And I’ll be honest it’s becoming increasingly hard for me to just pretend everything is alright. Please write soon, if not to me then to Mandy._ **

**_With all my love,_ **

**_Your sister Abbey_ **

_Wash stood outside the large house and just stared at the maroon door. The heat was dry and it seemingly sucked all the moisture out of the air. It was a little overwhelming after spending so much time on the Mother of Invention where the climate was synthetically generated. It had been years since he’d seen either one of his sisters. It had been years since he had even seen earth for more than just a few hours while on a mission. Tentatively Wash raised his hand and knocked on the door. There was the sound out footsteps on hardwood floors and then the door opened. A mess of curly strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes stood before him. The laundry basket filled with freshly cleaned clothes fell to the ground._

_“Hey Abbs,” Wash said sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. For a moment his little sister just stared, the reached out and yanked him into a tight hug. Even though she was an adult now, Abbey still smelled the same like maple and jasmine. A second set of footsteps bounced up the stairs._

_“What on earth are you doing Abbey, I thought-David?” Mandy spoke quietly from the top of the stairs that lead down to the basement._

_“Surprise,” Wash smiled hopefully at Mandy. For a moment she seemed too shocked to move and then took three long strides towards him. Where Wash was expecting a hug, he received a vicious punch to the shoulder. “Ow! What was that for?” He rubbed the sore spot._

_“I thought you were dead! You didn’t call home or write! We haven’t heard from you in nine months David!” Mandy yelled, tears sliding down her cheeks. Wash debated on whether or not to tell her the truth or not._

_“About that,”_

_The kitchen table was made out of sturdy oak and they sat around it all staring at one another. Mandy was leaning with her forehead pressed against her palm, eyes red._

_“My last mission was extremely classified so I wasn’t allowed to contact you. But because my injuries were so severe, I was given medical leave to come home and rest for a bit.” Mandy rubbed her eyes and sipped on the coffee in her hand._

_“I’m just glad my brother is here safe,” She croaked out and reached for his hand. Abbey leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed._

_“I don’t suppose you’re home for good?” She questioned hopefully. The thing about his sisters was that they cared far too much for their own good. The Director had been slightly worried that if the two of them didn’t hear from Wash soon that they would start sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. So Wash had finally gotten to come home, if only for a little while._

_“No, I’ve got one week.” Wash grabbed his little sister’s hand and squeezed. Mandy’s eyes traced over every new scar on his face and arms, lips pressed together in a tight line._

_“Well let’s make the best of this time,” Mandy smiled softly and stood up._

_“Yeah! Let’s crawdad fishing!” Abbey exclaimed and slammed her hands on the table, “It will be just like we used to do when we were kids, but this time it won’t be the mutated ones from the colony.” Wash snorted and leaned in close._

_“Abbs, we used to hold you down and stick your hair into the water so they’d latch onto it,” He chuckled, “You used to scream while we did it too.” Blanching, Abbey hastily backtracked._

_“How about we just go out for drinks! That sounds safe,” She exclaimed happily. Wash laughed and caught Mandy’s eye across the room and nodded to her. The two of them could save the heavy stuff for later._

_The bar was bustling about and most of the locals seemed to know Mandy and Abbey in some aspect. It was a small town and they seemed to be quite interested in Wash._

_“Don’t worry about them David,” Mandy put her hand on his shoulder, “Not much happens here so when there is a new face pops up people get interested,” she explained and settled down at their high top. The bartender approached and each of them ordered. A vodka cranberry for Mandy, a margarita for Abbey, and a gin and tonic for Wash. The three of them sat just enjoying each other’s company._

_“So Wash what are you doing for the military these days?” Abbey asked and dug her elbow into his stomach. Mandy turned her head to look at him expectantly._

_“Well I can’t disclose my specific job title, but I can say that I am special forces…kinda,” He told them and then took a big gulp of his drink._

_“Well that sounds interesting,” Mandy commented, “Do you see a lot of action out there? I couldn’t help but take inventory of all your scars,” Good old Mandy was never easy to fool._

_“Maybe a bit too much sometimes, but I work with a good team. They make it easier and we have each other’s backs.” Abbey rolled her eyes and slammed her empty glass down on the counter. Out of all of them she had the highest alcohol tolerance and the smallest body. It was a neat party trick that had apparently earned her lots of money in college._

_“Are you seeing anyone?” Abbey wiggled her fingers at him smiling with a piranha grin. That was the thing about Abbey, her packaging was small but there was literally nothing dainty about her. Everything from her extremely short hair to her androgynous way of dressing was like a layer of armor. The other thing was that her mind was wickedly fast. It was sometimes hard to keep up._

_“Oh dear god no,” Wash burst into laughter, “I don’t have enough time in the day to even think about a relationship.” Wash finished his drink and set it down gently._

_“Oh come on David,” Mandy teased, “There’s gotta be at least someone who’s caught your eye. You’ve probably got a squad full of beautifully muscular and talented men to pick from. Bet you have all the girls jealous,” Wash chuckled._

_“Actually the women are more talented than the men in our squad,” He commented, “My squad is led by a woman and she’s pretty incredible. Reminds me a bit of you Mandy,” At that his sister smiled, a bit bashful._

_“Well aren’t you the stick in the mud,” Abbey replied dryly. There was laughter brewing in his chest and it exploded forwards. Yes, things were different now. There were part of his life that belonged with Abbey and Mandy; the laughter, innocence, and joy he once carried were theirs. The dark bits, the scary bits, the bits they made him feel a little dirty belong on the Mother of Invention, they belonged to Freelancer._

_Their night of one or two drinks turned into an event. It quickly became a drinking contest for those with an iron clad will and a lead lined stomach. The world went a little topsy turvy at about six shots in and suddenly things didn’t seem quite so tense. Abbey was smiling. Mandy was laughing. Wash was doing both._

_“Oh, oh don’t look now David but you’ve got someone watching.” The warmth of the alcohol in his blood quickly faded away when Wash turned to look where Abbey subtlety pointed out. Agent Maine, Marcus, sat two bar stools away. The man almost looked out place but with a beer in hand he appeared normal enough._

_“You should go talk to him.” Mandy’s elbow dug into his ribs and Wash swallowed the lump in his throat. Downing the rest of his drink he looked his sister in the eye and stood._

_“Watch and learn,” He said despite the growing anxiety. It didn’t matter if Maine was one of his best friends, it didn’t bode well that he was lurking around Wash’s sisters._

_Sidling up to the bar next to Maine, he ordered two Whiskeys on the rocks. It was always Maine’s favorite. Wash moved into Maine’s space and smiled his most charming smile. Maine replied with a knowing one. The two of them were close friends and knew how to read each other’s body language well enough. It was easy for Maine to gather how tense Wash was under his alcohol induced relaxed posture._

_“Act interested,” Wash muttered to Maine. The giant man raised his glass and clinked it against Wash’s. The two of them sipped down their drinks._

_“The Director wants eyes on you,” Maine spoke in his low and cautious way. That was his gift, saying the right words with the right weight._

_“Well pretend you’re interested or they will get suspicious,” Wash answered and put on a flirty grin. They had flirted like this enough times on undercover missions for it to look natural. They were roommates, confidants, and backup. There were very few things they wouldn’t do for one another or hadn’t done already. Maine slid his hand from Wash’s forearm to his bicep and looked him in the eye._

_“My place or yours,” Maine asked and his tone was relaxed and easy._

_“Yours,” Wash whispered against Maine’s ear, “I’m not taking you anywhere near the vultures that happen to look like my sisters.” Maine’s other hand slid down to Wash’s waist._

_“That’s fine,” Maine agreed and the two of them slid away from the bar. Over his shoulder he winked at Abbey whose jaw was currently on the bar floor._

_The hotel room was absolutely far too perfect. Better than any that Wash had stayed in during missions and he marveled at the scale of everything. Even after all the things he had seen, there was still the colony boy who marveled at things so simple._

_“Did they buy your cover?” Maine asked once the door was shut. Wash looked up at Maine and immediately relaxed._

_“Well with all my newly acquired scars medical leave wasn’t really too hard to believe,” Wash muttered and shucked off his jacket. Maine hummed in agreement and sat on the edge of the bed._

_“You’re drunk,” Maine commented and Wash wobbled a bit to correct his faltering balance. The last two or so shots were finally starting to catch up to him._

_“Well that’s what happens when your sisters are damn near made of liquor,” He answered softly. Stepping forward, Wash placed a hand on Maine’s cheek._

_“Are you offering?” Maine questioned. They were never one for words between them. Sometimes it was just easier to speak with actions. Leaning in Wash placed a tentative kiss to Maine’s lips._

_“I’m always offering.” Wash slung one of his legs across Maine’s lap and smiled. The bigger man sent a crooked smile his direction. Their next kiss was one of partners familiar with each other’s bodies. It was warmth and passion. The slide of a tongue against lips. Hands shuffling clothing out of the way. Hands grazing smooth skin. Heat. Warmth. Passion. All the things old lovers inherently knew. And as Maine eased him down onto the bed with one hand cradling his head and the trailing down Wash’s inner thigh, he thought that maybe this is what love felt like._

_____________________________________________________

_Opening up the front door and stumbling into the kitchen, Wash had a soft smile on his face. There was a light on in the living room. Mandy sat curled up on the couch, blanket tucked around her._

_“Fun night?” She whispered and closed the book on AI theory she had been reading. Wash sat his wallet on the counter and slid off his shoes. Slinking towards Mandy, he waited for her to lift her feet and then he sat down._

_“Most definitely,” He answered his sister and took to massaging her feet._

_“You seem different,” Mandy said and there was a sad look in her eyes, “Please promise you’re being careful David. I don’t just mean while you’re working, I mean all the other times too,” She spoke softly and her eyes were a little watery._

_“Hey.” Wash leaned in and wiped away a stray tear. “I’m always careful. You know that,” He stated confidently. Mandy frowned and cupped his cheek. The heat of her skin was comforting and familiar._

_“Your eyes are very sad. Like the little light inside you has been extinguished. So just promise me that wherever you end up that you’ll still be you at the finish line,” Wash took a deep breath and looked Mandy in the eye. She hadn’t changed much. Still too tall for normal human female standards. Still had too many freckles just like Wash. Still far too smart for her own good._

_“You know I will,” He smiled and wrapped his arms around his sister. There weren’t too many good things left in the world but this was one of them._

_The two of them lay out on the couch, Wash’s head resting in Mandy’s lap. She quietly hummed the tune of Michael row the boat ashore. Wash smiled and closed his eyes. The tune had been the same one she had hummed on the nights when their mother was either too drunk or too angry care. The last time he had heard it had been when Mandy had smuggled a scared seventeen year old Wash and a heartbroken thirteen year old Abbey out of the house after their mom found out Wash was gay._

_“Have you talked to mom recently?” Wash asked. Mandy ran her fingers through his hair, raking out the tangles that had been mussed while he was with Maine._

_“No, but I do occasionally hear from the girls.” A deep sigh already answered his next question. “I wish you didn’t have to leave again. When you showed up on my doorstep I nearly had a heart attack. Our family isn’t perfect but it’s a little better with you around.” Wash opened his eyes and wrinkled his nose at her._

_“Oh come on Mandy, by the end of the week you’ll be ready to ship me off to the first person who will take me,” Wash teased. The crease between her brows accented by a small frown was almost too much._

_“You’re in some dangerous shit aren’t you?” She whispered. Gently, Wash flicked her nose._

_“Yeah, I am. But like I said there are a whole lot of people around me who’ve got my back. My squad leader, Carolina, she’s the best of the best. So you’ve got nothing to worry about. Okay?” Wash smiled up at Mandy._

_“Okay,” She agreed. They didn’t move for the rest of the night. Mandy hummed and Wash listened._

_____________________________________________________

_Connie was the first to greet him on the Mother of Invention; her eyes sparkled and her cheeks dimpled in with a wide smile._

_“Did you get the goods?” She questioned and laced her arm through his. Wash smirked and patted the bag slung over his shoulder._

_“The finest bottles of tequila I could find for my girl,” Connie laughed loudly and tugged him down the hall. The smell of her orange and citrus shampoo trailing behind._

_“Did you have a good time with your sisters?” She asked, “The whole ship has been buzzing with the fact that you actually got to go home.” It had been a rare circumstance and Wash was eternally grateful for the persistence of his siblings._

_“It was good…a little hard to leave, but it was good.” Connie sent him a sympathetic smile. They all had someone that they missed. None of them really ever allowed themselves to show it though._

_“Well for the record.” She stopped and placed a soft kiss to his cheek, “I’m glad you’re back. Come on, let’s go get some food. its mashed potatoes and beef stew tonight.” Wash smiled and let himself get dragged down the hallway._

_York was staring at Wash from across the table, eyes squinted. Wash wasn’t really sure what the other man was looking at…or for. Beside York, Carolina was watching her boyfriend with a cocked brow. It was like the two of them were trying to put together two completely separate puzzles._

_“So, how was earth?” York finally asked and leaned back slightly. It was Wash’s turn to suspiciously narrow his eyes. The other Freelancers at the table leaned in and conspicuously eavesdropped on the conversation._

_“It was fine. I saw my sisters, had a few drinks, and helped on the farm. Nothing too exciting,” Wash shrugged and went back to eating his mashed potatoes. It wasn’t until York got his famous little smirk that Wash figured out that somewhere along the line, he had somehow taken a misstep._

_“Well the hickey on your neck says otherwise,” York spoke snarkily. Wash immediately slapped a hand up onto his neck and squeaked._

_“Other side,” Carolina offered. South was nearly out of her chair shaking with laughter. North had his brows climbing off of his face. Connie was giving Wash a knowing smile. And Florida, who was off to the side, had a twinkle in his eye._

_“Oh this is amazing!” South snorted and wiped her eyes, “The rookie got some action,” North was attempting to quiet her down but the pitiful look Wash sent her did nothing to help._

_“What was her name?” Florida asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Wash paused for a second and looked to the ceiling praying for the torment to end._

_“His name was Mark,” Wash mumbled, “And I’ll have you all know that he was excellent in bed.” York let out a hoot and patted him on the shoulder. South on the other hand looked like she couldn’t quite process the information she had just been given. Wash laughed and smiled. He had two families. Both of them were a little broken, a little strange, but they were perfect in their own ways. There was nothing on earth that he would trade for either one._

_____________________________________________________

     There were only a few things that Tucker couldn’t explain: How Caboose was able to tiptoe quieter than anyone he knew despite being a literal giant, how Church had been able to miss every single person he ever shot at no matter how far away the target was, and how Wash managed to so god damn self-sacrificing. Tucker was a selfish asshole. It made living through things easier. If you asked most people what his deadliest sin was, they’d probably say lust. Sure Tucker had slept around but he wasn’t really that lustful. Gluttony, that was what defined Tucker. It wasn’t just sex he wanted in excess, it was food, pleasure, alcohol. So to have feelings for someone who was constantly sacrificing parts of himself for others was damn near impossible. It was hard to watch from a distance as Carolina took and took and took from Wash without a second thought. It was even harder to watch Wash give and give and give without asking for anything in return. Even after his conversation with Carolina the determined light was still in her eye. She was going to end up breaking, Tucker had seen it before. Carolina was just a little girl reaching for the sun and Tucker couldn’t wait for her wax wings to melt and reality to hit her hard. The only thing was, Tucker had the sneaking suspicion that she would drag Wash down with her too.

     They were nearing the final leg of their trip. Wash was driving one hand on the wheel and the other mindlessly tapping out a pattern on the door. Opening a private radio line Tucker took a deep breath and decided to take a leap.

     “You know I never expected you of all people to let someone else run your life into the ground after everything that happened.” Wash took his eyes off the road to glance over at Tucker.

     “Tucker, now is not the time for this,” Wash’s voice was tight, wound with tension. Leaning back in the passenger seat, Tucker shrugged and looked out across the road.

     “Listen I don’t know the history between you and Carolina and I really don’t care. But Caboose and I actually kind of like you, so don’t like lose yourself okay. We still need a leader after all this is done.” There was a pregnant pause.

     “Thank you Tucker,” Was all Wash said, but his put his idle hand on the wheel and the other grazed Tucker’s shoulder. A light gesture that spoke so much more than the simple thank you.

     “Like I said,” Tucker gripped Wash’s hand holding it in place, “We kind of like you, so you aren’t allow to leave us okay?” Wash didn’t say anything and neither did Tucker. The two of them just stayed like that, connected in such a small. And in that moment it was enough. Because like Tucker told Carolina, they weren’t together. They were just a maybe. They were just an almost. They were just a something that could happen if they played their cards to perfectly. So Tucker had no right to demand something from Wash but he could ask and maybe, just maybe they could stay right at almost.

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update it has been amazingly busy week! 
> 
> While writing the story I kind of like to think of Wash and David being almost two different people. Wash is the result of years of fighting and survival, whilst David is the person he was before everything.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy. Thank you so much for all of the support.
> 
> PS the idea about the crawdad fishing is actually a true story. I grew up in small town Colorado and we had a canal behind the house with crawdads in it. My brother and sister used to hold me down and use my hair as a lure.


	5. Finding Our Way to Say the Thing We Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a shy smile that toyed with the corner of Tucker’s lips. It was a moment that Wash would never forget in all his days. That beautiful, unsure smile and eyes that were crinkled with happiness were something he would take to the grave.

“Who taught you to write in blood on my back? Who taught you to use your hands as branding irons? You have scored your name into my shoulders, referenced me with your mark. The pads of your fingers have become printing blocks, you tap a message on to my skin, tap meaning into my body.”

Jeanette Winterson

            They had Church back and the bastard was almost as angry as before, but this time there was something different. There was a almost hidden portion of the AI’s mind that couldn’t find it in himself to be angry anymore. And then there is the part of him that was hotter than ever. The part that sees Wash as a threat. The part that sees Tucker, and to a lesser extent, Caboose as traitors. Apparently the bastard had made his peace with Tex and now found the real world revolting to some degree. And Tucker was damned if he didn’t agree with that assessment just a little too much. The thing was that this wasn’t the Reds’ fight. It was once again a rather large heaping pile of Blue team bullshit. Yeah Tucker knew that. The thing he couldn’t shake was the fact that Carolina just didn’t care. Sure the girl was fucking gorgeous and absolutely terrifying. But the thing was Tucker didn’t see those things as positive about her. He didn’t see the so called caring girl Wash described. It took one look into her eyes that were just a little too green to know that she didn’t have anything on her mind but cold blooded revenge. And Wash, well he was following behind Carolina like a beaten dog.

            They stopped and made an honest to god camp in an abandoned set of buildings. The interior wasn’t bad, provided shelter from the elements. As Tucker got ready for bed he could feel Epsilon twisting around at the back of his mind, a steady push and pull through memories. The little shit had taken the liberty of moving straight from Tucker’s storage unit and jumping into the AI implant all soldiers had installed when they enlisted. In theory a full AI or supposedly even a fragment had to be surgically implanted but goddamn Project Freelancer had fucking ghost AIs.

            **‘You have got to be kidding me,’**   Epsilon echoed through Tucker’s mind like a radio on blast. Wincing, Tucker went back to rolling out his bedding fully planning on ignoring the voice in his head. **‘Agent Washington, you’ve got the fucking hots for Washington.’** Somehow even without corporeal form Tucker could imagine Church with his head thrown back and his eyes rolling.

            “Listen dude, sometimes shit happens. Sometimes it’s the hot blonde with the rockin’ set of tits and sometimes it’s a dude with gorgeous blue eyes, a killer body, and lots of freckles. The world is fickle that way.” Tucker answered aloud and sat down on his makeshift bed. The low hum inside his head put him on edge.

            **‘Woah, I wasn’t making a judgement about gender. I was making a judgement about the person.”** Tucker felt somewhat eased by that. Sure Church had been an asshole, but he had been an equal opportunity kind of guy. If you were alive, and maybe in his general vicinity, Church could find a reason to hate something about you. Epsilon, who was a memory of Church, was much the same.

            “Good, because I was not about to explain bisexuality to a computer program,” Tucker snorted and for a moment there was something that felt like the soothing glance that a simple embrace might cause echoing across his consciousness. It caught him so off guard that Tucker didn’t have time to prepare what came next.

            **‘You should go tell him or something. All those things you think about,’** Epsilon uttered seemingly a little embarrassed, **‘Take it from the guy who spent his entire life chasing a shadow, that you should hold those feelings incredibly close and hold on for dear fucking life. Not everyone gets the chance to have that. Even though I made peace with Tex being gone if I had one more chance to see her again, I’d take it in a heartbeat. I’m going to jump over to Caboose. Just…think about it,’** And then the buzzing was gone and the room was incredibly quiet, the only sound was the wind howling outside. And wasn’t that just fucking great. The AI memory of his dead friend just told him to grow a pair. Great, just great.

___________________________________________________

            Wash had a routine when it came to setting up his sleeping arrangements. First was the layout of a room; where were all the potential entry and exit points within the general vicinity of where he would be sleeping? What position would provide the most safety should someone attack him whilst sleeping? Who was in the next room, were they trustworthy? Those were all the little things Wash had to tick off of an invisible list before sleep was even a thought that crossed his mind. So between him in Carolina, they took the rooms at each end of a long hallway. If you wanted to sneak in during the dead of night they would be the first and last person you would encounter. It was silly really. No one was actively looking for them at the moment. But it was habit. It was routine.

            The other thing that was routine was the way Wash got ready to actually preform the act of sleeping. First the combat knife that was always holstered at his thigh would get tucked under his pillow and his standard issue pistol was place within arm’s reach. Then Wash would amazingly take off his armor and pull on a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt. Then slowly but surely over the course of an hour, he would lie down and listen. The night always made such interesting noises. From the chirps of native insects down to the wind shifting old parts of the building, it was all interesting. On base it had been the soft sound of Caboose’s snoring and the hum of electronics. Those were all sounds that helped him sleep, a familiar lull. However, what did not help him sleep was the sound of Tucker pacing outside his door.

            It was easy to tell it was Tucker; the footfalls were that of someone who was agile but careless with their movements. Not to mention the slightly heavier step when the left foot hit the ground from an old training injury acquired back at Blood Gulch. The building that the crew was making their temporary home had been intended to be some sort of living facility, possibly, military, so there were actual honest to god doors. So Wash swung his open and stared blurry eyed at Tucker.

            “Why are you pacing?” Wash groaned. Tucker stopped mid-way through his next step. There was a curious look on his face, one that Wash had never seen him wear before. It was thoughtful and filled with a little trepidation. It didn’t suit Tucker in the slightest. It would have been better to have seen wild confidence and a sensual smirk.

            “Because I realized something,” Tucker answered and he sounded so very fucking nervous. And if the rapid rise and fall of his chest was anything to go by Wash was right on the money. There was a long pause and Wash let out a deep sigh. That was the thing, the two of them could dance around whatever it was that they were doing but it was starting to interfere. Carolina had noticed. That was a conversation that Wash never wanted to have to repeat.

_Carolina was sitting down, running her fingers through her thick hair. There was a scowl on her face. It wasn’t pretty. That face meant trouble._

_“What is it,” Wash asked and it came out a little short. If he was being honest, it was a little frustrating how little she valued the Reds and Blues. Carolina looked up at him then, lips pressed together in a thin displeased line._

_“I have known you since you were barely out of your teens,” She spoke in a measured way, “And in that time I have never seen you so unfocused. And for the life of me I have spent days thinking about what might be the cause of that. At first I thought that it might be your mind, a residual effect left over from your time with Epsilon. Then it just…hit me. You like him, Tucker…” She trailed off and to his surprise, Carolina gave him an out._

_“Yes, I do.” Short and simple. Totally honest. It was the first time that he had said it out loud for anyone to hear. It felt like a relief. Like coming up to breathe._

_“Why?” Carolina trailed off like she couldn’t fathom the basis for such an attraction._

_“Because Tucker is a lot of the things I’m not.” Wash shrugged and chanced a glance in her direction, “He is also a lot of things that you haven’t taken the time to notice either. He is a good leader, self-sacrificing despite the fact that he is scared. With a little training and coaching Tucker could be an amazing fighter. And on top of that he was there. Tucker was there to fill in the gaps that hurt a little too much when Project Freelancer went up in flames,” There was no real way to explain it. Sure Wash could list the things he admired about Tucker until he went blue in the face, but most of it was instinct._

_“Oh Wash,” Carolina said and in that moment she looked very sad. Not for the reason that he originally thought she might. One look at the pain in her eyes and the quiver of her lips told him everything. Carolina understood because she had been the same once upon a time. All too much in love and very scared. And Carolina, well she threw that love down an elevator shaft._

_“Yeah,” He choked on the word a little bit, “Just my luck,”_

            Feelings were rarely rational and neither were the people attached to them. Wash had done his best to keep a distance, to be professional. But it had become increasingly clear that wasn’t going to work anymore. Approaching Tucker with slow easy movements, Wash entered his space. Neither of them were small men. Wash was still a giant next to Tucker, but his body was lithe and built with softly defined muscle instead of bulk. Tucker was deceiving in many ways; around his team he appeared tiny, almost petite and the armor disguised a surprising amount of muscle and strength. When Wash stood next to Tucker the two of them were as different as day and night. But that was one of the things that made Wash happy, a small and frivolous thing, but it was still something that was his.

            “And what might I ask, did you realize?” Wash asked and tried to make it come out teasing, but it fell short and sounded anxious. Tucker’s eyes were laser focused on the floor and for a moment the other man didn’t seem willing to speak.

            “I realized,” And he raised his gaze and leveled it with Wash, “That I don’t want us to be an almost anymore.” No elaboration was needed. It was clear what he meant. Apparently Wash hadn’t been as subtle as he thought.

___________________________________________________

            Sex and attraction had never been something that Tucker had shied away from. Even as a teenager his sexuality had been something fluid that he embraced fully. Never ashamed of what he wanted. Whether his partner was male or female, he made his intent clear. With Wash things were different. There was a gap in talent. There was a small gap in age. But most of all Tucker felt the need to handle Wash with care, almost be gentle and thoughtful about what he said or where he placed his hands. Which was a little insane considering the fact that Wash could probably break his wrist in the fraction of a second. Because Wash had trauma and Tucker had trauma. But Tucker didn’t want to hit and run with him; he wanted to ease into Wash’s space and just stay there. So when he said those idiotic words. I don’t want us to be an almost anymore, Tucker kind of wanted to die a little.

            For a while there was silence between them. There was a magnetic pull around the room. It pulled like an unbearable weight. Wash was the one to break the tension. Stepping forward, he reached out and gently grabbed Tucker’s wrist, barely holding on. A barely there motion accented by a soft intake of breath. And without words they moved into each other’s space. Both of them were nervous, hands shaking and breath unsteady. It was innocent, an almost sense of awe that one might get experiencing something for the first time. Their movement wasn’t that of practiced lovers or old flings. It was that of two people who were unsteady and unsure. Unsure of what the whole thing meant or if it was even okay to be doing any of it. But they moved as they always did, orbiting one another until somebody got pulled in. Slowly Wash moved his hand, drawing a trail from Tucker’s wrist to his shoulder blade. Palm fanning out, Wash moved Tucker closer and with his other hand he tilted Tucker’s chin up. For a moment it felt like Tucker might pass out, looking up at Wash. Then Wash kissed him, capturing his bottom lip a quick and chaste press. And it was perfect.

___________________________________________________

            When Wash pulled away, he braced for panic a quick return of his kiss. Instead he found Tucker looking up at him with the strangest look in his eye.  It almost caused Wash to laugh when Tucker got onto his tip toes and met his eyes. Then Tucker pressed the most tender, heart-wrenching kiss to the corner of his lips. And in that moment his fate was sealed. Fate had dumped Tucker directly in his path and Wash would rather be damned than to let the opportunity pass him by. Cupping Tucker’s cheeks, he bent down and took the time to properly kiss him. It surprised him when there was a tentative press of tongue against his bottom lop. When Wash returned the action in kind, Tucker made a low hum in his throat.

            Eventually they pulled apart and Wash let his hands slide from Tucker’s face to his neck. There was a shy smile that toyed with the corner of Tucker’s lips. It was a moment that Wash would never forget in all his days. That beautiful, unsure smile and eyes that were crinkled with happiness were something he would take to the grave.

            “You are,” Tucker began to say but then stopped. An even brighter smile, full of teeth and dimpled cheeks, crossed his face. “You are too fucking perfect,” Wash laughed as Tucker tucked his head into the space between he neck and shoulder. The soft puffs of his breath tickling Wash’s skin.

            “And you, Lavernius Tucker are more than I ever hoped I could have.” Wash nearly had a panic attack when all the light drained out of Tucker’s eyes and he blinked at Wash. The cold had nearly reached his heart when Tucker burst out into his beautiful loud laugh.

            “Holy shit,” he snorted, “I just realized I don’t even know your name!” It was then Wash’s turn to laugh and he gentle pressed his lips to Tucker’s forehead.

            “David, my name is David Washington.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wham, last chapter out. Originally I planned on making the last chapter explicit but decided against it. I am all about soft and tender.
> 
> I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this. I would love some feedback. 
> 
> PS. I headcannon that Wash's last name really is just Washington

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Wash and Tucker, and about the entire crew. I thought I would try and focus on how Wash and Tucker became friends on their journey. Hope I did alright. 
> 
> Andy


End file.
